


My own perfect little world

by magicraindrop



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Books, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Mind Palace, Outdoor Wedding, Scotland, Sherlock is in Love, murder investigation, romance novels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicraindrop/pseuds/magicraindrop
Summary: Sherlock hates romance novels. That is until he meets John Watson and soon his mind is full of flowers, one's love of the life and happy endings. But that'll never work for John and himself, right? He'd loose him and their unique friendship and that is something Sherlock wouldn't survive. So he bottles up every emotion inside him and is careful to not let anything show on the outside but everyday's novels are leading him to a part of his mind palace he hadn't known existed at all. There he builds their perfect life together.At a special crime scene in Scotland things are about to become real.





	My own perfect little world

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this! post:
> 
> "Sherlock reads a lot of cheesy romance books. And half the time he is ‘in his mind palace’ what he is doing in there is listening to a mix of the softest, best love songs and imagining John running across a field of daisies towards him in a white billowy shirt more than half unbuttoned and ten leather breeches. The edges of this scene are all hazy and golden and when they collide in the middle of the field John pulls him in close for a heart-stopping kiss…  
> Oh gods, then they are on a case in Scotland investigating during a outdoor wedding and John, wearing a white shirt and a kilt, ends up running towards him across a field (because Sherlock is running away from the killer) and when they meet Sherlock, driven by the power of a million fantasies, pulls him in for the kiss. A startled John kisses desperately back while the killer stands awkwardly by…"

Sherlock never thought of reading as an entertainment. He usually just read books that had a logical and explainable background. Easy to understand – at least for himself - and helpful for his work. But he had memorized most of his knowledge anyway.  
That didn’t mean there weren’t much books in his and John’s shared flat. It was quite the opposite actually. Shelves full of books, books and books. You never know when you need one, right? 

But he had never understood why people should read things such as science fiction (okay, some physical theories but not likely possible) or fantasy or worse – romance. Those stories change people’s views of the world dramatically and he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the task at hand, the reality. So, he never touched one and always avoided them in the bookstore. 

That was until John Watson. As he – officially – moved into the flat he brought not only his clothes but also books. More books than there already were. Sherlock quickly discovered that these weren’t typical contents he thought an army doctor would read. No, really not. Books about a perfect life, the greatest love, happy endings – romance. Ugh! How could he? 

But Sherlock wasn’t in a place to judge. Especially not with John as he found out soon. John wouldn’t let himself feel irritated by the way Sherlock side-eyed him every time he held one of his books in his hands and read. They were calming his nerves and the real world was cruel enough so why shouldn’t he do something about it and live his happily ever after. Even though it was just in his mind.  
Sherlock might need one of those books, too he thought often. Yes, he was a brilliant person and explained everything with logic and science (not always logical for the people around him though). But sometimes he figured he’d need some distance to it, too. Sherlock often retreated to his ‘mind palace’ for doing so but was that always the best way? John only wanted to help. 

The first time John offered his book to Sherlock his flatmate looked at him as if he wanted to strangle him. Quietly John put the book back into the shelf, right next to Sherlock’s psychology lexicon so he definitely wouldn’t overlook it. 

Time passed by and faster than they could have thought they had become the best of friends. They were always together and knew each other by heart. But for Sherlock it had developed into something more. He knew what he felt for John but he was determined to never show it in any way. John had declared more than once that he was straight and Sherlock wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship for anything in the world. 

At first, he didn’t want it to be true. He did notice how he craved for John’s proximity when he was in the hospital for work and he had to stay in their flat alone. He knew that he couldn’t sleep or even sit down calmly if he didn’t know where exactly John was and if he was all right. He wanted John to be with him forever. He wanted him, just him.  
And he soon figured out that all he wanted was a happy ending – with John. But he knew he couldn’t have that. He’d rather spend his whole life with John as his friend than to never see or talk with him ever again. 

This was like in John’s books, wasn’t it? He never talked about this type of feeling and he was extremely careful to not let anything slip out that could have exposed him. Over the time he got really good at it.

But in the end, his love for John was the only thing that made him start reading one of those books that John hadn’t stopped offering him at least once in a week.  
It was one late afternoon when John took another copy out of the shelf and held it in front of Sherlock’s nose. It was too near to be able to read the headline but it looked soft and John had probably read that one more than five times. He must like it quite much. 

With a quiet sigh Sherlock looked from the book’s cover into John’s eyes. They were a very deep blue, like a storm growing inside but at the same time steady and calm. Sherlock got lost again. That usually never happened – only with John. 

He took another breath, lifted his hand and took the book slowly from his friend’s hands. Their fingers slightly touched which was enough to send sparks of electricity through Sherlock’s hand, up his arm and down his back. He’d never get enough of John, he knew that. 

John’s eyes first widened with surprise as Sherlock wrapped his hand around the book and then it seemed like they started to sparkle with happiness. His mouth turned into a wide smile. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it.” he said with an excited voice. 

Sherlock really must have made the right decision. If it made John happy that he read his book then so be it. He’d do anything to make John smile. Sherlock smiled back a little. Oh, how he loved this man. 

John turned around and went into the kitchen. Probably to make tea, Sherlock thought. Yes. He noticed he had stared again and quickly looked down at the book, still clutched in his hands. 

There he goes. Reading a romance. It wouldn’t hurt him, right? Just words, letters. Nothing he couldn’t handle. And maybe he would also find a solution to his own problem, his love for his best friend.  
He opened the book and started reading and was soon wrapped up in a world full of decision, scandals and in the end the perfect love with a happy ever after. 

 

When he closed it again the only light source came from the little lamp beside his armchair. The lights in the kitchen were off, the light in the living room too, except for his lamp. The house was completely quiet, he couldn’t hear anything beside his own breathing. Outside a car drove by and its flashing light illuminated the room for a second. 

He looked at the clock, 2:16 am. He looked back at the last page he just finished. Had he really sat here the whole evening and read without noticing anything? That usually only happened when he was in his mind palace. 

Usually, but with John he figured nothing was that usual anymore. 

He turned the book around. He might need to overthink his prior view about these kind of books. They did provide some sort of… relaxation? Happiness? Contentment? He’d have to look for a fitting word later. 

He put the book down on the little table next to his chair and stood up. The story had put him in a thoughtful mood. What if… No he couldn’t start getting his hopes up. That was what he had been afraid of. To let his mind open up too much and let his secret escape.  
Even though the characters in the story had their happy ending - after some struggles of course – didn’t mean he could project that into the real world. It doesn’t work that easily, does it? 

He sighed and moved his hand through his hair. He needed to get back into the living world. The book had captured him in a way that felt somewhat odd but also kind of pleasant. He couldn’t quite grasp it.  
Maybe it was for the best if he’d go to bed. Yeah, that would do. 

He went through his night routine before lying down. He let his mind wander and somewhere between a bunch of flowers and a kiss he drifted off into sleep. 

 

The next morning, he already sat in the kitchen when John came downstairs. Sherlock heard a soft “Good morning, Sherlock” as John went to get his tea. It was quiet and calm. The only thing Sherlock missed was a good morning kiss… No, no, no! He couldn’t start thinking like that! Especially not if John was near. Instead he crooked out a “Good morning” himself. 

“Did you…” started John. “How did you like the book so far?” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s what I wanted to ask you.” Sherlock said. He actually didn’t want to ask anything related to that book but he couldn’t stop himself from saying so. He never ever had problems containing words he himself didn’t want to say. Until John. 

John made his world go crazy. John made him blind, deaf, mute and numb all at once but at the same time he had never seen as clear, heard as much, talked as loud and felt as amazing as when he was with John. Oh, what would he give to be able to tell him. 

His attention flew back to John and he looked at him in anticipation. _Oh._ He had wanted to ask a question – no, actually he had not - and John was probably waiting to give an answer. 

“Do you have any other books like the one you gave me yesterday? To read obviously?” 

John was stunned. He stopped in the middle of his movement – toast halfway to his mouth. Had he misheard? Was Sherlock really asking for another romance to read? 

“Did you… did you read the whole book, yesterday? Like, the whole” he asked. 

“You don’t need to repeat it that often.” Sherlock murmured. “But yes, in fact I did.” 

“What made you change your mind?” John asked. “I mean, no offense! I think it’s brilliant that you liked it so much but what made you take it in the first place?” 

Sherlock kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t possibly let John know. 

“I wanted to gain more information, more data about what books like that can do to people.”

It was the best answer he could manage without looking too suspicious but in the back of his mind he knew it didn’t work. If John knew that he lied he hid it quite well. 

“All right. No problem.” He said. “I’ll give you another book. You can tell me which you liked better if you want. We can discuss them. I’ve always wanted someone I could talk about those books with.” 

He smiled. Sherlock smiled back. This felt good. Almost too good. He bit into his own toast and let his mind wander again. 

John couldn’t believe it. Sherlock really had read his book – and liked it. So much that he wanted to read another. He had tried for months to get Sherlock to read something else than work related stuff. And now it really had worked. He couldn’t be happier. He immediately thought of the next book he could show Sherlock. There were so many. But he didn’t want to overwhelm him. He was just so happy.  
But what exactly did he do different from the other times he tried to get his friend to read his books? He couldn’t say. He had no idea. It must have been something though.  
He hoped that it was Sherlock himself deciding that he would give it a try. For him. 

He wanted to say Sherlock so many things he couldn’t. First of all, he would stutter with every second word and the most important thing… He might lose Sherlock. Yes, they were the best of friends. But that was the problem. He wanted more. So much more. He couldn’t put it in words, even if he tried.  
But other people, authors for example, fairly well could. They had put messages, sentences and words into his favourite books, which he would like to tell Sherlock every day. But he just couldn’t. Sherlock had said himself he was married to his work. It was impossible to get what he wanted, but he wanted it so much. Wanted to feel Sherlock, next to him, hand in hand, lips on lips. Oh, how he wanted to taste those lips and never let Sherlock go again.  
He’d hold him tight so that nothing could ever happen to him. They’d be with each other in their own little bubble, protected from the world. But it all felt like a distant dream.  
His books were his safe place where he could let his fantasies come to life. But at the same time, they were a curse, because they showed him what he could never have. And it drove him almost insane. 

It was completely quiet in the kitchen, each of them unaware of the other’s troubled thoughts.

 

Later that morning John stood on his tiptoes in front of their book shelf, looking for the next book to give to his friend. As Sherlock entered the living room he had to stop himself from giggling. It just looked adorable as John tried to reach the top shelf. How did he get the book up there anyway?  
Some seconds later Sherlock held another romance novel in his hands. 

“You see” John started. “It really means much to me that you read them, so… thank you!” 

_Could he get even more adorable?_

“That’s no problem John.” Sherlock smiled. 

Then off to the next book. Another journey through the fight for the perfect life that only comes with the love you’d die for.  
As Sherlock sat in his armchair devouring every word he came to another conclusion. He’d die for John, too. He’d do everything for him and if that meant dying so that he could live he’d do it. This conclusion made him take a deep breath. 

John who sat in front of him with his own book looked up and smiled. He thought Sherlock had come to a very interesting part of the story. Surely, he must have been surprised.  
John was happy. Finally, someone he could share his enthusiasm with. 

 

Sherlock reading John’s books went on and on. John always ready to give him the next book and discussing scenes, characters and endings. 

After some weeks, when Sherlock had read every single romance in the house – he had also visited Mrs. Hudson to lend some books from her – he and John decided to go to the book store. They stood in front of the novel and romance isle for at least an hour, before leaving the bookstore with three full-packed bags.

 

Sherlock had soon discovered that the stories got more intense if he read them in his ‘mind palace’. He’d transfer the words into his head, where he’d have full scenes played for him. The characters - how he imagined them - going through their adventure. 

It was soon after that the faces were replaced with familiar ones. One particular book started it all. The two main characters had no names and after the first five or so pages Sherlock imagined John and himself. Now he had connected the real world with his book and he and John were suddenly in the story facing all the dangers together. Almost like in the real world. 

But one scene captured him completely. The “John”-character was on one side of a field while his own character stood on the other. Between them hundreds and thousands of beautiful daisies. The sun was illuminating the scene perfectly. Everything seemed like in a bubble. Suddenly book-John stood up. He was wearing a soft white billowy shirt, the top four buttons open. He then turned towards book-Sherlock and started running. It was like a dream. 

The real Sherlock wanted to crawl in that book and never come out again. He wanted to be with John for the rest of his life. 

Meanwhile book-John had come nearer and book-Sherlock had started running, too. He could almost feel the warm wind blowing through his hair, the daisies under his feet. Everything around John seemed to glow in a light gold. They were almost in the middle of the field and Sherlock reached out for John. He wanted to touch him, to feel John’s skin on his. He wanted to wrap his arms around him.  
Only some steps left until they could be together.  
Sherlock could see John’s eyes. They glowed like in the real world. They were such a deep and meaningful blue. And the sparkles in his eyes coming from the golden light around him were like stars in the clear night sky.  
One step left.  
He could almost feel John’s warmth. He saw his hands coming up to his face. Suddenly book-John was right in front of him. They had stopped running to not crash into each other. John was near, he was there, right in front of him and suddenly book-John wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him down. The second their lips touched Sherlock felt like he was flying. Finally, finally he had what he always had wanted. He wrapped his own arms around John’s waist and kissed back. John’s lips were so soft and warm. He pulled John a little tighter to him and – 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?” 

The lips disappeared and so did book-John, the sun and the flowers. That was what it felt like when a bubble burst. 

Sherlock blinked. He was back in his chair in the living room. Then he looked up to the person who had destroyed his beautiful perfect world. He was about to give a very annoyed and angry return as he saw who had interrupted him. There were those same sparkling blue eyes from some seconds ago but this time they were real. 

“What?” Sherlock managed. 

“I asked you if you wanted take away for tonight or if we should go somewhere?” John smiled. 

How could he be so gorgeous? Sherlock really, really wanted to go out with John but right now, after this experience he didn’t know if that was a good idea and it would be a platonic dinner of course. No romance at all. So, he declined. 

“Thank you, but I’d prefer take away for tonight.” 

“All right. I guess you want to finish your book? I bet it’s quite catching.” 

“Oh…um…yes, it is.” 

“Can I read it afterwards? I’m quite curious.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Okay, then I’ll order something.” 

And John left again. What exactly was that? Sherlock thought back to what just had happened in his mind. John and himself, enjoying life. John running towards him. John kissing him. Oh, how amazing that had felt. And it was just in his head? He had no idea how he’d survive if that would happen in real life. But he didn’t need to worry about that, did he? John would never share his feelings. 

Those books, he knew why he had never read them. Now he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to stop. 

Soon after, real-life-John came with their dinner and they sat down together and discussed today’s experiences. Books and work. It was a beautiful evening. 

 

Sherlock wanted to forget about it. Wanted to delete this memory. He didn’t want it to be true that books and stories had such a huge effect on him. He always had been rational. But then again, he had always believed that love was something that simply didn’t exist and that it was dangerous. It made people do the most stupid things.  
But that was before he had met John Watson, so, he didn’t delete this memory. 

He finished the book but what stayed was the scene, the field, the sun, the flowers, John. He wanted it to be true, but at the sime time knew that it would never work out. So, he stuck with his imagination. 

 

Every time he had a romance novel in his hands he retreated to his mind palace. More than once he imagined more than just the scene in the book. Most of the time it was John, running over the field, distant calming melodies, both colliding and the kiss. But he never got to the point when they both separated. Sometimes the kiss took longer, sometimes it was shorter. Sherlock just didn’t want to end it. 

After some time, he had worked out every little detail of the scene. When John was running through the field of white daisies, he knew exactly which parts of his face were illuminated by the sun and how his eyes sparkled. Sometimes in his imaginations they took each other’s hands, some other times they held on to each other. One time they even toppled over as Sherlock analysed different outcomes of speed. He knew how their lips moved together. It was probably nothing compared to the real life, but then again, he would never know. 

 

Some months after Sherlock had read his first romance and several mind palace seasons later they were called to a case in Scotland. Lestrade had given them the most important details and that they should pack their things. A taxi would be at Baker Street in about twenty minutes. And they shouldn’t forget formal wear, so John laid his suit on top of his other clothes before closing his suitcase. His gun was neatly tucked between some pair of socks.  
He took his jacket and went into the living room to get Sherlock. 

“Ready?” He asked. Sherlock turned around having just closed his bag. 

“So, Scotland? Ever been there?” 

“No.” John admitted. 

“Not as beautiful as Ireland but definitely worth a visit.” 

“Okay then. I’m looking forward to it.” 

They took their suitcases and went to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson. Soon the taxi arrived and brought them to the next airport. 

 

As they were sitting next to each other on the plane, Lestrade came over to give them the remaining information. They were going to a less populated spot in Scotland, which was surrounded by many forests and large fields. The next bigger city would be about half an hour away.  
A tiny thought, a little connection with the world “field” came to Sherlock’s mind but he didn’t allow it. He forgot it before he really knew what his brain wanted to tell him. He needed to concentrate now. 

There in the middle of nowhere a couple had chosen the place for their wedding. It didn’t turn out as planned, obviously. The husband’s best man and one of the bride’s guests were murdered in a horrible way. And now, on the same day, they had to investigate. All the guests and the couple were still there. The local police had made them stay to make the investigation easier for the team from London. 

“That explains the formal wear.” John stated and Lestrade nodded. 

“There’s been a murder, I know. But it’s still a wedding. There are two people who wanted to have the best day of their life and now two of their friends and family members are dead. So please, be gentle while you do your job. Did you understand, Sherlock?” Sherlock looked up. 

“Why aren’t you asking John this question?” 

Lestrade had to stop himself from rolling his eyes and turned around without another word. John just smiled and began to discuss their next steps with Sherlock. 

They sat so close to one another that their arms were touching. They both struggled to keep their emotions to themselves and to keep them from getting even closer. 

Some meters away Lestrade was giving Donovan the latest information which he just received as she nodded towards the detective(s). 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say they are crushing on each other. Heavily.” She stated and Lestrade turned around. 

“Sherlock and John? Seriously?” 

“Care to make a bet? I say they are together before the end of the month.” She grinned. 

“You never liked him!” 

“So? I can bet over them, can’t I?” 

“All right, all right. I say they are together before the next week.” 

Donovan opened her eyes in surprise. 

“Deal.” She extended her hand. 

Sherlock and John had no idea what their colleagues were talking about. They didn’t even notice. They were too wrapped up into each other’s scent and words and too busy to not let anything show. 

On their way mid-air, they changed into their vests and suits so that they would be a little less conspicuous. After that, the plane finally landed and they got off, looked for their bags and the cars which would bring them to their final destination. 

On their way Sherlock was explaining some things to John he had already figured out from just the information they had. The police had been quick to arrive so the murderer didn’t have much of a chance to escape unless he’d hide in the nearest forest. That’s what Sherlock showed him on a map. John had no idea where he got this from. Probably snatched from Lestrade. 

The ride took them about an hour so they arrived at the wedding just after lunch time. 

The wedding place was in the middle of a great field. To the north and south you could find a forest just some hundreds of meters away. The part of the woods in the west was farther but you still could see them clearly. All of them were connected so it was pretty easy to disappear there. 

They were greeted by the leading police officer and quickly followed him. On their way, they passed several wedding guests. Some still crying and shattered by the recent events, some just trying to pass the time, some trying to forget the images and scenes they’ve recently seen. But all of them devastated. That’s what John saw. Sherlock had already gathered all the information about half of the people he’d seen so far. Easy. 

The London team had split up to get a closer look at the bodies, to ask guests, waiters, bride and groom, to search the area for any clues. Lestrade, Sherlock and John first examined the best man’s body. It was covered with a white fabric. It looked like they had stolen the tablecloth which already showed some red spots. 

One local officer was with them and warned them before Sherlock could lift the cloth. 

“Be careful. It’s a really horrible sight.” She said. “Many of the kids are in shock.” 

John had kneeled next to the detective as he lifted the cloth from the man. The woman hadn’t exaggerated at all. The corpse was almost completely covered in blood, the face wasn’t recognizable anymore. John gasped and Lestrade turned away. 

“What the hell happened to him?” John whispered. 

“Axe.” Sherlock simply said. “It seems that the murderer was in rage. Whatever problem he had, this man had to pay for it.” 

“And I guess it wasn’t a small problem?” Lestrade asked. “I’ll leave you to that. Come to me when you have some more clues where to look for the person who did this.” Lestrade left with the police officer, leaving John and Sherlock alone with the mutilated corpse. 

“Interesting place for a murder.” John stated. 

“Indeed.” 

The body was placed some meters away from the actual celebration. The grass around them was flat as if many people stepped on it. 

“Do you think he saw his attacker?” John asked. “I mean it looks like they had a fight.” He pointed to the grass. 

“Don’t let it fool you. The groom’s best man dies on the day of the wedding. People are shocked, don’t want to believe what happened, want to see it for themselves. Many people who weren’t related to the crime at all were here.” 

“So, he didn’t see him or her?” 

“It’s most likely a ‘him’. Look at the force the axe has been driven into him. I don’t see a woman doing that.” 

“Right. But why? He must have been furious about something. I can see those two men having a Problem with each other, but then there is the woman who got murdered too.” John thought aloud. 

Sherlock got up. “To answer your question. He probably has seen the murderer but couldn’t do anything against him. They didn’t fight. You can see it on his hands. He didn’t even have the time to shield his face with them or turn away. The wounds are only on his face and chest area.” 

“Ah, right.” John said and stood up as well. “Now we look for the woman?” 

“Exactly.” Sherlock said and walked away from the corpse towards the next officer. John followed.

Soon after they reached the next crime scene. It was on the opposite side of the wedding area. As Sherlock lifted the fabric he was greeted with the exact same view he’d seen before. He examined the woman – and was stunned. 

“Do you see that, John?” He asked. 

“See what? The bloody body of a woman? Yes.” 

“No, I mean, come here.” He scooted over a little to give John space and he kneeled down beside Sherlock. Neither of them cared about how close they were. Almost touching. John tried to focus on the task at hand. Difficult with Sherlock so near. 

“Uhm…” he started. “She’s been killed the same way? On the opposite side of the place?” 

“Yes, something else you can see?” John tried but he’d never figured out how Sherlock made his observations so fast and correct. 

He shook his head. “No. What do you see that I can’t?” Sherlock took in a deep breath and started to explain. 

“They were both killed by the same man, right?” 

“Right. With the same weapon?” 

“Correct. But look at her wounds and compare them to the best man’s wounds.” John tried to think back to what he’d seen some minutes ago. The woman’s face wasn’t recognizable anymore, like the man’s. She was covered in blood but only hurt in the face and chest area. 

“They look the same?” 

“Yes!” Sherlock almost shouted happily. John beamed with pride. Sherlock was happy. Happy that John understood something normally only he would understand. “Yes. But you know what?” Sherlock asked again. 

John, still smiling, looked at Sherlock. The detective had to keep himself from staring too long in those beautiful eyes. 

“Look at the directions and angles the axe hit her body. It’s the exact same as on the man. They were killed with the exact same amount of hits on the exact same spots on their bodies.” John was stunned. 

“How is that even possible?” 

“He must have a steady hand a good aiming.” 

“Yes, but… how?” 

“I believe he paralyzed them first with one hit directed to the middle of their faces, so they couldn’t fight him anymore and he finished his work with precision.” 

“Okay. But why making such an effort to let it look so similar? I mean if he really had something against them he could have just killed them, normally? I know, I know it’s not normal to kill somebody let alone with an axe but you know what I mean.” 

“Yes, I know. And yes, he was in rage but there was another strong emotion which led him.” 

“And which one was that?” John asked. 

“I don’t know.” Sherlock responded. “Let’s go to Lestrade. I think he’d want to know what we have.” 

 

The police had set up their stuff on some of the tables covered in white sheets. It looked strangely pleasant. All the equipment – guns, plastic bags and gloves - next to champagne glasses and flower arrangements. John had put his gun on there, too. 

The sun shone brightly from the early afternoon sky and made them sweat in their suits. Sherlock turned to Lestrade to tell him what they had found out. Meanwhile John pulled out of his suit jacket. It was getting way too hot. 

“Now what? Should we look for a person carrying an axe? And how did he kill them without anyone noticing?” Lestrade asked. 

“Of course not. That would be too easy. I can’t tell you though, why nobody noticed. Have you already searched the nearest forest? Either way he is hiding in there or he is still here with the remaining guests.” 

“And why do you think that?” 

“I know that. As you said the police was here fairly quickly because the bride and groom wanted some safety at their wedding and there already were some security guards. Two of them working for the police.” 

“Yes, that’s what I said.” 

“Those are trained people. They would have noticed if someone left with a car and stopped him. And because no one did, the killer is either still here with us or in the next forest.” 

“All right, I get it. There are some officers with dogs in those woods right behind you. And I can send another troop in the forest across from it. It’s quite near, too.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Sherlock finished. 

Lestrade turned around to give his group their instructions. “And be careful. He already killed two people. With an axe. We don’t know what he might be up to.” They nodded. 

Sherlock had watched him until John appeared at his side. 

“So, what do we now?” He asked. The detective looked down at him. _Oh god John! John in a white shirt! No, no, no! Focus!_ Sherlock quickly cleared his throat. John wearing a white shirt was definitely distracting and reminded him of something in particular. He should really stop now and focus on the case. 

“We are… we’re going to the bodies again. Maybe we can find out something else. Some other similarities.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” John said. He took one of the walkie-talkies lying on the table, which would keep them informed, and walked with Sherlock to the nearest corpse. 

Pictures had already been taken from both of the victims but Sherlock obviously wanted real life comparisons. They searched them for anything that could have been overlooked, they searched the near area, looked for any patterns connecting the two. But they found nothing. 

Later, they decided to ask some of the guests. Maybe the victims knew each other. In the end, they had some conclusions, but not those they wished for. The victims weren’t related in any way and they had probably seen each other twice because of the wedding. They had no backstory together at all.  
So, why should there be someone who’d want to murder them? Was he bored? Did he know them privately without them knowing each other? It was possible. But what had they done? He had murdered them in such a horrible way that there needed to be a reason. 

John and Sherlock sat near the police table and discussed. 

“Maybe it has nothing to do with the people themselves but the wedding.” Sherlock suddenly said. 

“You mean, the person with the axe hates the bride and groom and killing them wouldn’t have been enough? He wants to ruin their perfect day?” 

“It would be a possibility, right?” 

“Yes. If we’re going after that theory we have to look for very different types of clues.” John said. “We have to ask every guest again. Do you know how long that’ll take? And they will be quite annoyed. I mean if I - Sherlock? Are you listening?” 

Sherlock’s thoughts had drifted away again. Luckily **not** to the white shirt John was still wearing. 

“Sherlock?” 

“What? Yes, yes you’re right.” 

“You didn’t even listen properly!” 

“You can already start asking questions. I’m going to tell Lestrade.” 

Sherlock got up. John watched as he made his way over to the police table and shook his head in adoration. He could admire him all the time. His lean figure, his soft looking hair, the way his eyes light up with the sun today. Dreamy. 

_No, no, concentrate!_ He told himself. He had to start with the next questioning. As he got up he saw Sherlock grabbing a walkie-talkie himself. So that’s probably how he wanted to stay in contact. Very well. 

John made his way over to the first guest that came into his view. Maybe someone really did have something against the marriage. 

 

Hours after they’d arrived, had asked every person and had examined the bodies more than once they still hadn’t found more clues. Sure, they had found out about the usual jealous ex-boyfriends and –girlfriends but none of them were here, at least no one had seen either of them.  
The police officers had checked every guest, as it turned out no one was an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend and the three guests found with blood on them where innocent. One of the guests had have a bad nose bleed and the other two had cut their skin open on one of the spiky bushes surrounding the place. So, nothing to alarm anyone. 

 

They knew that the murderer had to be somewhere, but even the troops who searched through the nearby forests came back with nothing. Knowing that they would have to let everyone go soon, they got more nervous with each passing hour. 

It was already late in the afternoon as John got up to his feet again after examining the corpses for the umpteenth time. 

While thinking about the motive of the murderer, there suddenly broke out a commotion behind him. People were up, running and shouting all over the place. Quickly, he made his way over to Lestrade. 

“What’s going on?” He asked breathless. Lestrade looked at him oddly. 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too… open?” John looked down at himself. 

“Why? It’s hot here! Are you not feeling hot?”

“Yes, but I’m still wearing my shirt.” 

“I am wearing it too!” 

“With three buttons open and your sleeves pulled up?” 

“That’s not important right now. What happened?” 

Lestrade switched back to his usual manner. “Two people are missing. A man who’s a good friend of both the bride and the groom and another young lady.” 

“Oh no.” John moved his hand through his hair. “Do you think…?” 

“Well, we have to find them.” said Lestrade. “We need to get back into the forest. They could be anywhere. We have no idea what happened. Donovan! Get your team and go into the northern woods. Thomas? You take the southern part. The rest is staying and looking over the fields. They are huge here. Go, go, go!” 

Everyone hurried around. People grabbing their guns and dogs about to start off into their shown direction. The guests just stood there, stunned and worried at the same time. Would they find something? 

With so much going on and so much excitement around him, John wished he was somewhere more peaceful. Or at least with someone who could anchor him. He turned around to look for that exact person. But he couldn’t find him. 

_Where the hell was Sherlock?_ He had last seen him, when they questioned the guests for the second time. John grabbed the walkie talkie to ask Lestrade if he knew where Sherlock was. 

“Lestrade? Have you seen Sherlock?” 

“What? No, I thought he was with you. The last time I saw him he talked to you.” Lestrade answered through the device. 

“But that’s at least two hours ago.” John started to worry now. 

It was not unusual for Sherlock to just disappear out of side, but this time they weren’t at home in London. They were on a murder investigation in fucking Scotland right in the middle of nowhere, with the murderer still out there. What had he seen which they hadn’t? 

Through the walkie talkie John could hear Lestrade asking the other officers for news. 

“Anything yet?” 

“Nothing.” came the answers from both officers. 

“Okay, keep going. And oh, if you see Sherlock, please bring him back here.” 

There was an annoyed huff from the other end – probably Donovan – and it got quiet once again. 

Two guests missing, the axe-murderer still out there and Sherlock gone, too. John put his head in his hands. What kind of horror was this? 

 

John started scanning the area as well, after all the murderer could be anywhere. After a while he gave up and sat down on the soft grass. He started to think about Sherlock. 

_Had he found another clue that made him look somewhere else? Quite possible, but why didn’t he say so. It was far too dangerous to go out there alone, especially now as it started to get dark. If Sherlock wasn’t back until then-_ but John’s thoughts where suddenly interrupted by his walkie-talkie making a noise and then he heard a voice shouting. 

“I found him!” John took the device in his hands immediately. 

“Sherlock?” 

He knew that everyone else could listen to their conversation so he couldn’t shout at Sherlock for being so irresponsible and worrying him. 

“What? Where is he?” John heard Thomas. 

“Following me!” came Sherlock’s answer. So that was why he breathed so heavily, he was running from the murderer. 

Sherlock jumped over a root and struggled to keep his speed, while the man with the axe was still keeping up. He needed to reach the field as soon as possible. 

John meanwhile could imagine quite well what was happening in this forest. He took the walkie-talkie to his mouth and shouted. 

“Someone go and get him! NOW!” 

He turned around at the spot and ran back to the police tables, almost running them over. He grabbed his gun and sprinted back towards the forest. 

“Where are you?” He shouted again into his device. 

“South-western part of the forest!” came the breathless answer. 

John ran faster. He didn’t hear Lestrade shouting after him. He clutched his gun tight and rushed towards the trees. Oh god, this field was horribly large. 

At the same time Donovan, Thomas and Lestrade were on their way to the part of the forest they thought Sherlock would be in. 

Sherlock in the meantime had made it almost to the end of the forest, he could already see more light. Finally, he left the last trees behind him but he couldn’t stop just now as the killer was still after him. In the distance, he could see where all the tables stood and more and more people crowding the area to see what was happening. And then his eyes fixed on the figure which was directly running at him. _John._  


As John saw a person running out of the forest he wanted to cry with relief. It was Sherlock and he was alive.  
But the joy of seeing Sherlock alive didn’t last long as he saw that Sherlock was followed by a man carrying a large axe. The blade reflected the last rays of the sun and made the scene even more maddening. 

He ran even faster now. 

At the same time, Sherlock had looked behind him to calculate if he’d reach John in time. But as he looked back up he saw something entirely different. It was like he was directly transferred into his mind palace. 

There was John, wearing a white shirt, half unbuttoned, running directly towards him. The sunlight made everything shine in a magical way and John’s deep blue eyes were sparkling like actual stars. Sherlock couldn’t see anything else. No wedding crime scene in the background. No Lestrade, who was running towards him. He didn’t care about the killer who was still following him. The only thing that reached his mind was John. _Oh, John._ He was so beautiful and he was coming right towards him. Sherlock’s whole world came together to this one person. 

He had imagined that so often and now it was coming true. Or was it just in his mind again? He couldn’t say for sure. 

Now John was just mere meters away before they’d finally meet. Sherlock wanted to open his arms to wrap them around him and never let go. 

John on the other hand had no idea of what was going on in Sherlock’s head. His only goal was to reach Sherlock in time, standing in front of him to protect him and shoot the murderer if necessary. 

Only five meters left. 

Sherlock slowed down a little so that he wouldn’t run John over, he extended his arms towards John’s face. John had also reduced his speed, as he didn’t want to run directly into that axe, which was now almost directly pointed towards them. He was about to move his gun in front of him as his eyes quickly moved to Sherlock. 

Sherlock smiled, he smiled over his whole face. He seemed completely happy. Was he so relieved to be safe? Then John noticed that Sherlock was running straight towards him and not past him how he had planned. _Maybe he couldn’t stop?_

Now it was just one meter. 

Sherlock was almost touching John now. He came to a halt and put his hands on John’s face. As both of them had stopped completely Sherlock moved even closer to John and their faces were just inches apart. John had stopped breathing, his eyes wide. Then Sherlock finally closed the distance between them and put his lips on John’s. 

They were kissing. John’s eyes widened with shock and he let out a quiet gasp. He seemed to have forgotten what had happened around them because not even two seconds after he was already kissing back. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips harder against Sherlock’s. 

The detective held John’s face carefully in his hands and cupped his jaw. They moved their lips as if they had never done anything else. 

John forgot everything and put his arms around Sherlock’s waist to pull him even closer, to kiss him more desperately. It was happening. It was really happening. He stood there in the middle of a field in Scotland, kissing Sherlock Holmes. 

As soon as their lips had touched, it sent electric sparks through Sherlock’s body. He felt as alive as he never had before. He could feel John everywhere. His mind was clouded but he didn’t mind at all. There was John, John and even more of John. 

Here they stood, right in the middle of a field, a murder investigation, after a chase of life and death. 

Lestrade had almost reached when he noticed what was going on. Right in this moment Donovan and the rest of the troops came out of the forest, skittering to a halt by the scene in front of them. 

The killer, completely taken aback by what was happening in front of him, had stopped about ten meters away from them. He had slowly put his axe down but still clutched to it. The two men, probably police officers, were kissing, not caring about anything else but themselves. He felt kind of awkward like he shouldn’t be here to watch it. He had never witnessed anything so weird in his life, and he had just killed three people. 

Suddenly he felt something cold against the back of his head. 

“Drop the axe!” A threatening voice of a woman said and he saw several other people were pointing their guns at him. He was surrounded. There was no other option than to drop his weapon or he would die in a gunfire. 

After dropping his axe, he was immediately shoved to the ground. 

Sherlock and John were still standing in their own little bubble, kissing and holding each other. Neither of them wanted to let go of the other. Besides Sherlock was still not sure if this happened for real or if his mind palace had completely taken over. The only thing he knew was, that this felt unbelievable real and he wouldn’t want to miss it for anything else in the world. 

John had put one hand (in which he was still holding his gun) around Sherlock’s waist and the other one clutched his shirt. While Sherlock caressed John’s jaw lovingly with his left hand, the right one entangled in his hair. 

They were still kissing, unaware of the arrest of the murderer or Lestrade, who was standing awkwardly next to them. He cleared his throat but Sherlock and John weren’t bothered by him at all. 

At first Lestrade had thought it was one of Sherlock’s ideas to get the murderer, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

Slowly, John and Sherlock stopped kissing, until only their lips where softly touching. John had loosened his grip on Sherlock’s shirt and his breathing had evened out, so did Sherlock’s. They just stood there, holding each other, and finally opened their eyes. Blue eyes met grey ones, their foreheads were touching, both smiled softly and felt completely content with the world. 

Lestrade cleared his throat once more. This time, Sherlock and John finally looked up. They noticed they were still standing in the middle of the field, the sun had settled down behind the trees, illuminating the scene magically. Some police officers were just bringing the killer away, leaving Lestrade and Donovan with them. 

“Well, that was quite, something.” Lestrade stated. Sherlock and John looked at each other and then back to the police officer, still holding onto one another. 

“At first, I thought you wanted to distract your attacker, but now…” He smiled. “Congratulations. We’re heading back to the wedding, crime scene, remember? But take your time.” 

He turned around, Donovan followed. 

“My money, please!” Lestrade said while extending his arm towards his colleague. She murmured something uncoherent and dropped a hundred-pound bill in his hand. “Thank you.” 

 

John and Sherlock looked at each other again, staying exactly where they were. 

“So, I guess that just answered my thoughts.” Sherlock whispered affectionately. 

John smiled. “I… I want to…No, I think, I don’t need to. You already know.” He took hold of Sherlock’s neck to pull him down again for another heart-stopping kiss. They held tight to each other and poured every tiny bit of their love for each other into that kiss. There were no more words needed. 

 

Only when the first stars had already appeared, did they walk back to the others, hands entangled and heads up in the clouds. 

Most of the guests had already left. Police officers were packing their things away, careful not to forget any of the evidences they had collected. Lestrade had sent another troop into the woods, after he had managed to get John and Sherlock to stop kissing for a moment, so Sherlock could tell him what had happened in the woods. 

Some other police officers had found the girl. She was in complete shock and carried some minor wounds but she was still alive. After about an hour they had finally found the third victim, the man. They had secured the area and were waiting for the flash- and spotlights to be delivered, so they could examine the scene thoroughly. The bride and groom only left, after all their guests were already gone. 

In the middle of the night the police went to get their last work done. After they had gathered their evidences the third corpse was brought away, too. 

Utterly exhausted they got all their things and bags and weapons back together and as the first rays of the new morning sun hit the area and illuminated what had been dark before, they left. Behind them lay a day full of excitement, a crashed wedding, three bodies, huge worries, a chase for life and death and a kiss. A kiss confirming love and promising something even more beautiful to come. 

 

Worn out from the day's adventures, John and Sherlock and all the others were brought back to the airport by a police officer. 

Sitting close next to each other on the flight back, Sherlock told John exactly what had happened in the forest. John sat there, listening to that dreamy voice, glad that he didn’t need to hide his feelings anymore. 

After Sherlock had told him everything, John went once again through the event which had happened a few hours ago, still not believing that it had actually happened. 

After everyone had gone last night, they had declared their feelings for each other with actual words. John had thought that his heart couldn’t possibly beat any faster but as he heard Sherlock say _“I love you. I love you so much it hurts to not be by your side every time of the day.”_ he was proven wrong. 

While John was replaying their first kiss in his mind, Sherlock still couldn’t believe that he was now able to call John his. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, fingers intertwined with John’s, he knew that everything was perfectly okay now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm happy you found your way to my story. As soon as I've seen this post on Tumblr I just had to write it. I hope you like the outcome. 
> 
> And I'd like to thank the lovely @here_at_all for beta reading my fanfic! Love you!
> 
> Oh and for the solution of the murder... Sadly I don't have Sherlock's mind so I'm afraid, I can't tell you what and why things exactly happened like they did ;) I do hope it's okay like that.


End file.
